Surety and Semantics
by starry19
Summary: 5x09 Tag - "She needed to wake up, though, or he was going to be tempted to do something very stupid, like move to sit next to her and ease her head onto his shoulder. Or, stupider yet, pull her into his arms. Still, he had let his hand hover, letting what he wanted and what he knew was best war in his mind." Jane/Lisbon


**AN**: So I broke down and got a Tumblr account. And it's already ruining my life. Also, I really don't know what I'm doing there, so forgive me if I'm making some grievous etiquette errors.

LOVED "Black Cherry." I didn't think it would be anything special, but it turned out to be one of the better episodes this season. Since I can't help myself (AND I have a blog now!), I imagine I'll post further rantings on Tumblr. Wow, that sounded like a hint. Or a plug.

...I'm stopping now.

Consider this a missing-scene-type-thing, between where we last saw Lisbon and when we last saw Jane.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Theeeee end.

**Surety and Semantics**

"Feels good to do the right thing, doesn't it?" Jane asked, leaning nonchalantly against Lisbon's doorframe.

She was sitting at her desk, industriously bent over her work, but he could tell her thoughts were miles away. The small smile playing around her lips gave away their direction.

Turning towards his voice, she raised an eyebrow. "And what would you know about that?"

He entered the room fully, sitting on her desk. It was a new thing he was doing, keeping closer to her, and he enjoyed it almost too much. "About what? Doing the right thing myself? Or about you doing the right thing?"

She let her pen fall onto whatever form she had been pretending to fill out. "Either."

He smiled. "I think you'd be surprised how many times I've done the right thing. And I'm glad you didn't let the law get in the way of_ you_ doing what's right."

Her mouth twisted, and he knew that she hated having to admit that the law and what was actually right sometimes were two different things. For Lisbon, having to second-guess the rules of her badge was almost sacrilege.

"I think I owe Sarah some serious baby-sitting time," she finally said.

His grin widened. "Oh, what a terrible punishment," he deadpanned. "You get to have some cuddle-time with Ben. That'll be worse than pulling out your fingernails, won't it?"

The affectionate, happy smile that crossed her face tugged at his heart. She needed a child of her own to love.

He knew this case had touched her deeply. A girl far too young for such a responsibility holding her family together. Would a teenaged Teresa Lisbon have gone after the man she suspected killed her brother? Oh, without a second thought. She would probably do the same thing today, if someone she loved was threatened, like an avenging angel.

For a moment, he amused himself with that mental image, of his Saint Teresa trading her halo in for a bulletproof vest and a gun.

She reached for her coffee cup, and he was reminded that the only sleep she gotten the night before was a short nap against some kitchen cupboards. It hadn't been particularly peaceful, either.

He felt his expression sober slightly. She had been talking to him in her sleep. Unhindered by the constraints of reality, she had felt free to say what was on her mind.

She had accused him of lying to her, which was true enough. He did, all the time. She had wondered if he trusted her. She'd begged him to be careful.

And then she had told him she loved him.

Although he knew how she felt, he had never heard her expressly say the words. Instinctively, he had wanted to close his eyes, but he was unable to tear his gaze away from her sleeping face.

It had been a very long time since he had seen Teresa Lisbon vulnerable in such a way, and it was impossible to stop staring.

Her skin was so white it looked luminous, framed by softly waving dark hair. Dark eyelashes, like the strokes of a pen, rested against her cheeks. Pale pink lips were barely parted, just far enough for her words to escape.

She needed to wake up, though, or he was going to be tempted to do something very stupid, like move to sit next to her and ease her head onto his shoulder. Or, stupider yet, pull her into his arms.

Still, he had let his hand hover, letting what he wanted and what he knew was best war in his mind.

It had been ten years since someone had said those words to him. His heart had been beating unnaturally fast, and he had swallowed several times in rapid succession.

He ghosted his hand up to her wrist, shaking her gently. Green eyes opened, surprised and sleepy, and never was the temptation to wrap his arms around her stronger. She fit perfectly, he knew from past experience.

But it wasn't the time for that, not now.

And he would never tell her what she had let slip. It was something he would keep close to his heart, something he could remember in his darker hours.

He was loved. He could feel the warmth of that knowledge all the way to his soul, battered and damaged though it might be.

Lisbon's gentle poke shook him out of his reverie. "What's on your mind, Jane?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed. "You look like you're thinking awfully hard."

Smiling glibly, he said, "Oh, you know. Solving the world's problems and all of that."

"Good luck," she said, sarcasm rising to the surface.

Absently, he picked up her pen and began toying with it. "What on earth do you possibly have to do paperwork about? I was perfectly well behaved, I'd like to point out."

She considered his words. "Yes, I guess you were," she said, sounding surprised. "But there are other things to be filed that don't involve you and shenanigans you may or may not have engaged in."

He widened his eyes. "Shenanigans, Lisbon? Really? Everything I do is in the noble pursuit of justice and honor." He held his hand over his heart for emphasis, and her expression told him she was thinking about smacking him in the chest.

His lips turned up before he could stop himself. He had missed this, very much. The teasing, the easy banter.

Admittedly, the reason he missed it in the first place was entirely his fault. He had removed himself from the Serious Crimes Unit recently, brooding and hiding and planning.

And it had been worth it. He felt calmer now, able to breath easier. He had all the information he needed in front of him. It was just a process of elimination at this point. One by one, he would cross off Red John suspects until he knew for certain who the son of a bitch was.

It was cliche, but it was only just a matter of time.

Additionally, he had a suspicion that Lorelei was going to give Red John up even before he, Jane, had even come to any definitive conclusions. He had planted the seed of doubt, and despite Lorelei's best efforts, he knew it would sprout.

To that end, he had thrown himself back into the SCU caseload.

Lisbon had seemed wary of him at first, unsure if he was going to suddenly veer off in an unexpected direction. But he had stayed with her, giving the investigation almost all of his intention.

He had realized, when they had been dealing with Tommy Volker, that he was facing an obstacle he hadn't counted on.

Lisbon didn't need him for her investigations. Or maybe in general. And maybe she didn't want him, either.

She was the one constant in his life, the one person he had always expected to have by his side. He had been forced to come to the unhappy conclusion that he really had given her no reason to stay, especially after his recent behavior.

Still, he knew that if he asked for her help, he would get it. But he didn't want her to do it out of guilt. He wanted her to help him because she cared. Because she wanted to.

Under no circumstances could he lose her.

So he relaxed his posture, lowered his guard, and forced himself back into the man he usually was. The casual touches, the light flirting, all were very deliberate on his part.

He was winning her back.

And he was succeeding. It was startling how relieving that was. He hadn't fully understood how much having Lisbon at his back had become instrumental, absolutely vital to his existence.

He would be lost without her.

"Go home early," he told her, still playing with her pen.

"Only if you do," she threw back.

He handed her the writing utensil back, fingers brushing hers. "Touche." For a moment, he pressed her hand, just so she would be sure he was touching her on purpose.

She smiled fleetingly for an instant, then mastered her face. _I love you_, she'd murmured.

Regretfully, he eased himself back on the floor. He was getting too close again. Still, her eyes beckoned him, and he was forced to fight with his baser instincts again.

"I'll be upstairs if you need me for anything," he said, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a protective measure against touching her.

She nodded, and he knew she would come find him before she left. She always did.

There was something in her expression, still, something that was bothering her. He had one guess.

"They'll be alright," he said, "Noah and Juliana. They'll make it through."

Her eyes took on a haunted look for just a moment. "You can't be sure."

"I can be," he promised, and before he had thought about it too much, he walked behind her desk, put his hands on her shoulders. "You made it," he murmured, leaning down, mouth close to her ear. "They will, too."

He kissed the top of her head in a gesture eerily similar to the one he had made towards Lorelei months ago. The feelings behind it couldn't have been more different, however.

For just a second, she leaned back into him, her fingers coming up to drift lightly over where his were resting on her shoulders. She rarely touched him, so it was a welcome advance.

With a last, soft squeeze, he let her go, pausing at the door.

"No more coffee," he told her, teasing now, leading her away from the serious nature of their previous conversation.

She made a face at him, taking her cue.

"I'll be upstairs," he reminded her.

"I know," she said. There was something weighty behind her words.

"As long as you do," he replied, the same implicit meaning in his tone.

There was nothing else to say, so he offered her a half-smile as he left, stoping in the kitchenette to make more tea. He had moved the electric kettle back down here in deference to his new behavior.

The scent of Lisbon's hair was still in his nose as he walked up the stairs.

_I love you._

He heard it again in his head as he sat at the wooden desk, pulled out his notes.

And then he allowed himself one moment of foolish romanticism. "Love you, too," he said to the empty room.

He sighed, reaching for a pen.

Back to fighting the good fight. But now, now he was fighting for more than revenge.

He was fighting for his future.


End file.
